


all my love, and with it all my heart.

by dwyndling



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Kingdom Hearts 18th Anniversary, Multi, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Post-Kingdom Hearts III - Re Mind DLC, Sora's Birthday 2020, Sora-centric (Kingdom Hearts), lightly implied sorikai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: In this strange sky, there are no stars. A quiet reverie ripples the surface of the silence.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	all my love, and with it all my heart.

**Author's Note:**

> For awhile, I was very torn about what I wanted to write for the Kingdom Hearts anniversary this year, since this is the first one I have experienced since becoming a part of the community. This story was intended to be a love letter of sorts, between Sora and those he shares connections with, but also between me and these games. That said, I can only hope you enjoy.

Darkness above, darkness below.

The night sky is beautiful here, wherever here is. Sora’s legs dangle off the edge of the roof, the moon above and the wind around him turning the night’s chill into an invisible blanket. 

The city lights are bright below, spreading out before him like stars anchored to ground, while blacking out the light of the real stars above. They are not bright enough to dim the moon, which glows round and fresh faced, bracketed by wispy clouds; a dichotomy between colorful neon and pale grey.

It is unsettling, not to be granted the sight of a single star. Unconsciously, Sora’s lips purse together. When he was much younger, the sight of the stars above had always put him to sleep. It was a ritual of sorts, the night sky a blanket, the earth his bed and pillow. 

_The faintly warm sand beneath him. Riku’s voice and warmth to his side, telling him the names and placements of stars as his mothers had told them to him, the sound of the words turning into a lullaby. The lapping of waves on the shore is his accompaniment, a gentle cresting sound that was permanently in the back of Sora’s ears ever since he can remember._

There is nothing of the sort here. The whistle of the wind cannot hope to recreate the gentle song of the waves, even as it is soothing in it’s own way.

...how long has the wind been ringing through his ears? Presumably as long as he’s been seated on the edge of the roof, face turned upwards to the mottled sky. Wandering the empty sidewalks had granted him nothing, no questions, no persons to ask for help, no sense of where or when he was.

Sora keeps his eyes on the bright moon. If there is a face there, he cannot spot it. And yet, it is the closest to a companion that he has right now.

The quiet is so empty. It thrums with wrongness, a void space where there should be none. The gentle pounding of his heart in his chest beats against it, echoing into the vacant space.

_A price worth paying. A sacrifice worth making._

If this is the cost, then so be it, lonely as it may be. Something will happen eventually. He will stumble upon some voice, some being, some glimmer of hope. At the very least, he will carry on, facing the light and never looking back. 

The boy curls inwards, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs. 

...it’s cold. 

The sensation reminds him, with startling and visceral clarity, of the days they’d spend in the kingdom of Arendelle. Of the sisters there, one princess, one queen. Of the bond of love they’d shared, as tattered and frayed as it had become.

_Someone you could never stop loving, no matter what._

No matter what form or appearance they would take...even on their darkest and lowest of days. Someone who you were so tightly bound to that nothing they did could ever push you away. 

Perhaps they were transformed into a beast, like Belle and her prince, or perhaps they had changed beyond recognition in other ways. The silhouette of a tall man appears in his mind, a sheet of long dove colored hair and downcast amber eyes. Even so, that love had burned strong. 

_Even in the darkest of times...the coldest of nights and the most hopeless of days._

Memory sits heavy in the back of Sora’s throat. Responsibility, diminishment, dismissal. A task to which he could never fully rise, that’d he’d failed so miserably at that he’d ended up here in the first place. 

Yen Sid’s lined face glowers down on him, impassive and forbidding even in memory. The approval of the master was seemingly hard won, and yet both Riku and the king had done so with relative ease.

Or, at the very least, they had overcome what was set before them, regardless of what Master Yen Sid might or might not feel about the matter. King Mickey, despite his spontaneous way of making ‘plans’, had achieved Mastery one way or another. Riku had battled his demons into utter submission, down far enough that he could never be subsumed again, a true master in every sense of the term.

_I don’t have the kind of strength. I’ve accepted that by now. Despite everything else I try...all I do is never enough._

The radiant aura that occurs when the power of light flows through him like a river of stardust is a phantom sensation, ghosting through his veins like a remembered current. It’s equal and opposite, the heady rush of being consumed into the inky dark, the rage and grief that tears through his body hard enough to consume him completely, lingers with it. 

What would it be like, to be made of one or the other? What is a human made of anyway? A mixture of both like the heart? How does Riku feel, when he attaches the darkness that coils within him to his magic, still able to wound and purify the darkness that beleaguers the light that he’s sworn to protect.

Sora thinks of Vanitas. Of a body formed of nothing but fibrous darkness, strengthened by every ounce of hatred and grief. Of the most vulnerable and volatile pieces of a heart, thrust into a sentience he was never meant to bear.

_Was he...glad? To fade into shadow? Or would he rather have been whole, no matter the cost?_

Fading. Rebirth. Pulled from time, and from memory, as if from a dream. Where exactly do dreams and memory overlap? One originates from the other, but which is more important?

_Was the Tron who lived in the datascape the real one? Or was the warped and reprogrammed version from the dream the real one? Is this a dream? Is this reality?_

Or has he woken up into reality for the first time in his life?

...meh. Doesn’t sound feasible.

The way that layers of reality intertwine has never failed to confuse him. Pooh Bear’s world is nothing more than a book, and yet that world is still as bright and colorful and real as any other. Even if Donald and Goofy had never followed him inside, the memories of that place are as sweet as the honey that Pooh adores, something unmarred by the darkness that intrudes on the other worlds.

At least...all but his most recent visit. 

_Memory loss? A feeling of vacancy where a treasured connection should be?_

It rings all too familiar, a chilling sensation of something larger at play here, something that Sora cannot control. It’s not that the passage of time can’t be undone to some extent, it’s that it _shouldn’t_ be. He can no more stop from slowly growing and changing no more than he can stop a planet from orbiting its sun. Of course his connections to others will change with him, of course the original connection will weaken, even if new ones are made in it’s place.

But it’s never scared him like this before.

“Do you think,” Sora whispers, eyes locked on the moon above him, “that the worlds ever dream of being whole again?”

Shattered, rent into countless pieces, each now grown into their own form of maturity. It’s hard to conceptualize the idea that all worlds were once one, at least according to the old legends. Each one is so very distinct, so very much itself and none other, that it’s difficult to imagine that they all came from the same common source.

What was it like? Were the sun and moon the same? Were there stars in those ancient days, if there were no other worlds to populate the empty skies?

Was there...even a sky at all?

Sora recalls a princess, standing in the center of the town square, her blonde hair coiled tightly all the way down her back. The sunlight had struck the top of her head where it crested over the rooftops, leaving radiance on her brow in a crown made from light itself.

“She probably has a real crown now.” The wind ruffles his hair, and Sora finds that the sound of even his own voice is welcome, in breaking up the pervasive silence. “I hope she likes it.”

And with that, the metaphorical floodgates open, and he couldn’t stop rambling aloud if he tried. “I miss getting to talk to Rapunzel, y’know? I was so happy, getting to see her light up when she saw the outside world for the first time. So much happened, but she was alright in the end, along with the person she loves.” He sighs, and the sound mingles with the wind. “I can only hope that she’s still just as happy right now.”

Her journey was so different than his own, and yet so similar. It’s easy to think back on the times when he was first cast off the islands as they fell, awakening in a strange new world where everything made considerably less sense. The feelings of a fragile hope, and helplessness, and the underlying certainty that things would never go back to quite the way they were before.

And here he is now. Lost, alone, and unable to do much of anything except reflect on how he got here. 

“If I were Hercules,” Sora mumbles into the crook of his arm, his eyes on where a tree in the street below is lit with the pinks and greens of a nearby neon sign, “I could use my demigod powers and be home in an instant.” 

He doesn’t miraculously shift into Hercules or gain his powers in the moment after the words are out, but it certainly would’ve been convenient. 

It’s a comforting and somewhat non-linear thought, that if Herc _were_ here, Sora could explain to him what neon was. Which, technically that would require Sora himself understanding what exactly neon was and why it glowed, but details, details...

What? Sure, it’d be breaking world order, but Herc is a close friend! Surely Donald would forgive him for that. His week has been up and down and all over the place. It feels as though he’s slept about two hours in the past five days. There was no time for more, but now, here, there is nothing keeping him from falling asleep at a moment’s notice.

Sleeping...is it like sleep? To be lost in the depths of someone’s heart? Perhaps he’s lost in the depths of a strange world’s heart.

Terra might know. Sora doesn’t know him very well, but the somber man who had stood with them in the graveyard seems visibly weathered by whatever exactly it was that he had withstood. Understandably, if he had survived more than ten years in Xehanort’s grasp. He doesn’t remember much of the time he had spent at Xehanort’s mercy, but from what Riku has said, or more what Riku _hasn’t_ said, the nightmares he sometimes has begin to click together.

Or even Lea, perhaps, who coincidentally has also been present for a lot of things that Sora can’t remember. His own tenure under Xemnas’s command extended almost as long as Terra’s, but if Sora starts thinking about _that_ situation too long, it makes his head feel all wobbly.

“I wonder if they’ve gone back to Radiant Garden. Lea and his friend.” Propping his chin up on his arms, Sora regales the pale moon. “They lived there as kids, so I bet they went back there to stay. But...maybe Lea wanted to stay in Twilight Town.” It seems unthinkable that he’d want to be apart from Roxas and Xion...or at least, that’s how Roxas and Xion had felt about Axel.

Radiant Garden...it feels like such a long time since he’s been there, even if it’s somehow only been a matter of weeks. The Restoration Committee must be still hard at work, planting trees, repairing homes and clearing rubble. 

_Leon’s nod of approval. Aerith’s radiant smile. Yuffie’s enthusiastic hugs. Cloud’s firm pat on the shoulder. Cid’s rambling, ever gruff. Merlin’s kind eyes and knowing look, always with a spark of magic around._

Sora’s arms curl tighter around himself, as if to attempt to replicate the feeling of being flooded with that warm kindness.

The memories are sharp, and clear, but the time that elapsed between them and where he is now is an unmarred blank slate, a white void where nothing lives. It’s disconcerting to say the least, even if now those gaps have been lightly filled by bits and stray pieces that other people have explained to him. Something about a castle, and memories, and Naminé’s sad ocean colored eyes suspended through the whole picture.

...he’ll ask again, when he gets back.

Sora gasps, eyes flying open in shock from where they had slid to half-mast. “The Gummiship!!”

Is it alright?? The last time he’d seen it was when they alighted at the graveyard. It was a bit dinged up after getting there initially, as the Heartless ships that populated the area were especially fearsome. Hopefully Chip and Dale won’t have _too_ many repairs to do...he’d hate to have made extra work for them.

Dear old Highwind. A trusty vessel if ever there was one, able to get them out of many a tight spot. He feels a little warmer just thinking of the rocketship, thoughts of excited voices and the rush of discovering a new world filling his head.

He sends a rush of inner thanks out to Mickey, who was kind enough to allow them use of his ship in the first place. The little king has done so much for them, both intentionally and no, a true pillar of the kind of strength Sora wishes he had.

“I hope he’s alright.” It’s a low murmur that he shares with the moon. “He was really out of it after we fought the replicas...hopefully he’s recovered by now.”

How long has it been since he came to this darkened city? The passage of time is impossible to tell, since the sky never changes, and the city never awakens. It’s insufferable, a torment made by nothing but time.

Master Aqua weathered it for eleven years. Such strength...he can barely imagine it. That the darkness finally did consume her at the end of it seems irrelevant, for even then her heart had stayed intact. 

The strength to withstand darkness from all sides, no hope of relief or rescue...an impossible trial. He can’t shake the feeling such a trial has been placed upon him, here and now. The feeling crawls under his skin, possessive and all consuming. 

No one is coming for you. No one knows you’re here. They have no way of finding out, no way of going to look...as if they would even want to.

Sora bites down on his lip so hard it must break the skin, and yet his eyes still begin to water. 

_Anything. Anything would be worth it for her._

Attempting to look on the bright side, it’s a good thing he’s alone. All other residents of his heart have been summarily evicted one after another...thank goodness that they’re not stuck here with him. Now _that_ would be a tragedy.

“I wonder if Ventus is sleeping normally now...I hope so!” It’s an absent thought, but it is doubtful if the moon cares if it’s a nonsequitur or not. “I wonder if he dreamt during all that time asleep...was he ever in my dreams?”

Sora has to pause and stifle a wry laugh. “As if I haven’t been in my own dreams.”

The moon says nothing, as moons are wont to do.

“I think he and Xion might get along...though I wonder if Xion can tell him apart from Roxas. I’m sure she can, they’re not similar at all once you get to know them.” It’s true. While they have the same face, Roxas’s gruff nature and Ventus’s sunshiney calm appear as if mirror opposites. 

Even the mere thoughts of them are enough to spread a smile over his face. “I think they’re all doing just fine. Even in here-” a hand reaches down, spreading over his chest gently. “I know it.”

His heart always does seem to know best of all, to an extent where his head really can’t keep up in the slightest. It’s futile to try, so his heart skips ahead, and he is powerless to do anything but try to keep up.

...that’s not right. He _is_ his heart, in the same way that he is his mind. It would be pointless to try and separate and alienate the two, not when they were always meant to go hand in hand, if not be one and the same.

But hearts are so very different from minds, all the same. 

“I wonder what Naminé would think of that...she knows all kinds of things.” Sora tilts his chin up to feel the breeze better, the slight chill no longer feeling quite as cold. “I think she’d tell me that I’m thinking too much.”

He hopes Naminé is doing well in her new body. Releasing her heart was easy, but the lingering guilt that he hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to her before he’d left still sinks heavily in the pit of his stomach. 

Eventually. Eventually he can thank her for everything she’s done.

Her and...Roxas.

There they are again, with Roxas finally being able to live the life he was owed and Sora...Sora not being a part of it. Perhaps it’s fate, that they can never quite seem to exist at the same time. 

Sora bares his teeth and grins up at the moon. “Don’t worry, Roxas. You and I will get the chance to talk at some point.”

It’s another ‘eventually’, huh.

Without warning, his thoughts turn towards a very precious pair. Two voices he knows by heart now, the two who’s mere presence fills him with a unique sense of strength.

“Donald...Goofy…” His eyes well up, overflowing with everything that arises too quickly for his thoughts to express. “I…”

The last time he’d been succinctly deposited into a world that looked as though it should be inhabited, Jiminy had been with him, safely stored in a pocket. There is no such cricket shaped comfort this time, no small and genteel voice to accompany him.

Only the rustling of the wind, and his own voice for company.

“Kairi…” The name is a wavering sound, something he breathes out without thinking. “I’m sorry.”

There must have been a way to save her and stay with them all, a way that even Chirithy didn’t know. There must have been. Riku probably could’ve found it, knowing him. 

“Riku...Kairi…” Sora’s head bows, and suddenly the words are no longer addressed to the moon. “I…”

There are so many things to say, so many truths and untruths to evaluate together, so many things to discuss, so many hurts to address. So many moments he has left to spend on them, so many experiences he wants to give them. It’s overwhelming, the rushing awareness of the magnitude of that desire.

“I messed up.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “But there was nothing else I could’ve done.” Ignoring the sniffle that slips out, he swipes at his own eyes. “I hope you know that.”

“Know what, little man?”

With a gasp, Sora jerks around, staring up at the figure standing behind him. They made no sound, simply staring down at him from a place in the shadows. The height would suggest an adult, but everything else about the silhouette is incomprehensible, wreathed in a black coat.

A very...familiar black coat.

With slightly nerveless limbs from sitting so long, Sora pulls himself to his feet. He lets his hands hang open at his sides, the Kingdom Key ever a breath away. “H-hello...? What’s your name?”

A person is still a person. The first sign of life he’s seen since he got here, and it’s...whoever this is.

_At least they haven’t pulled out a weapon yet._

The figure takes a single step towards him, and every hair on the back of Sora’s neck stands up. “Nuh-uh! I asked first!”

“Uh. What?” His first instinct is to take a step back, but he’s already standing at the edge of the roof. A step backwards would be a quick trip four stories down, and Sora’s not sure his reflexes are good enough right now to turn it into a flip that could actually land.

“I asked you a question.” There’s an edge in the mysterious figure’s tone, either simple annoyance or something more menacing, Sora can’t quite tell. “And you haven’t answered me yet.”

Scrabbling for even a slight grasp on what’s going on, Sora’s hands clench into fists reflexively. “W-what was the question again?”

The figure gives an exaggerated sigh, their entire body slumping forward as though their strings have been cut. “You’re no _fuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnn,_ not anymore. Can’t you even keep up?”

Sora’s brows furrow together in anger. “I-”

“Save it.” The figure straightens, and suddenly there is a menacing tilt to the line of their body where there wasn’t before. “I guess you’re just not ready yet.” If it weren’t for the sudden and jarring changes in demeanor, Sora might’ve almost mistook that tone for sincerity.

“Hey!” He stomps his foot on impulse. “Stop talking in riddles!!”

The figure turns away, as if he hadn’t said anything. “I suppose we can postpone the games a little while longer, if you _really_ twist my arm here. Last minute scheduling changes! You really know how to burst my balloon, Sora.”

That’s it. The Kingdom Key appears in his hand in a flash of light, and Sora levels it at the retreating back. “How do you-!”

The figure is gone, with no trace it was ever there to begin with. The moonlight only illuminates the empty rooftop. Nothing more, nothing less.

After a long moment, Sora allows the keyblade to dissipate, head bowed to observe the concrete beneath his feet.

Is it...his imagination...or is the night getting a little bit darker? A new chill sweeps over his skin, both from within and without.

_Who even was that? How did they know my name?? We took care of all the Organization’s members...I didn’t know that people outside the group wore the-_

“Oh, and happy birthday by the way.” 

Sora yelps, ice shooting down his spine. The voice came from just to his left, and tearing his gaze towards it, he’s staring up and under a black hood, greeted with only blackened void.

“Many happy returns of the day and all that jazz.” The figure makes actual jazz hands to punctuate the statement. 

He can only stare wide eyed. “It’s...not my birthday.”

_Could that amount of time really have passed...it was August when I...left. My birthday isn’t till March. Seven...seven whole months?_

“Eh?” The formless hooded head tips to the side in apparent confusion. “Of course it is! Everyone knows that.” They lean forward, and Sora swallows hard as the impenetrable darkness where a head should be closes in on him. “I’ll prove it to you.”

Something flashes in Sora’s vision, and he grips his head on instinct, crying out. His vision has been reduced to static, something blurry and fuzzy and not quite there at all.

What...who...who is he again?

A gentle nudge at the edge of his awareness reminds him of the relevant facts. His name is Sora. His two most precious people are named Riku, and Kairi. He has a multitude of friends across worlds, across starry seas. He is loved, and loves fully in return.

Then...why...

Something...something is not there. It is slipping away, lost over the great and dark waterfall that leads down into oblivion. It has been torn from him, whatever it was.

He can’t find the heart to be upset. And if he’s not upset, it can’t be very important after all now can it? Certainly not as important as staying here, with the half formed shadows and souls that have forgotten that they are souls.

~~_He's one of them, after all._ ~~

It is kind here, kind and lonely. Dreams are no longer dreams, they are simply memories of things that have yet to be. This is that memory.

There is only darkness above, and darkness below.

  
  
  


_The core of your device cannot be located. Please connect it, and try again._

  
  



End file.
